


Not Enough

by chibisgotovalhalla



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:29:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28505247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibisgotovalhalla/pseuds/chibisgotovalhalla
Summary: You and Hvitserk have never been happier as he takes you to meet his family for the first time. But before you both get there, Hvitserk’s mood changes. When you meet his family, you find out why.
Relationships: Hvitserk (Vikings)/Reader, Hvitserk (Vikings)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	1. I Need You Now

**Author's Note:**

> First part of a little story. Not sure where it’s going. Will update regularly.

The only things that marked Hvitserk out in the moonlight were the neatly positioned braids in his hair and the expensive cut of the cloth of his wool cloak. His boots were caked with mud and shit, just like everybody else’s. His woollen breeks were splashed with the same, as far up as the knee.

As he lead you between the houses of Kattegat, guiding you around puddles with his boots squelching in the thick, oozing mud, you realised that you were truly happy to be on your way to meet Prince Hvitserk’s family. And so was he. He turned to beam down at you every now and then, brighter than the moon. His round cheeks were highlighted in silver, the deep shadows cast across his nose and forehead accented the soft twinkle in his eye.

The great hall loomed ahead, a great dark mass of structure against a star-studded sky. You took a deep breath and turned to glance up at Hvitserk once more, intending to give him a reassuring smile that you were ready for this. Except when your eyes met again, you saw trepidation in his, a shadow of deep concern.

‘Hvitserk, what’s wrong?’

Hvitserk took a cautionary glance over his shoulder and guided you deep into the shadows of a nearby barn. The air around you was icy cold, and as he softly held you against the wooden boards you leaned in to him for warmth. You could just about make out his watery eyes in the gloom. They seemed tinged with sadness.

‘Hvitserk?’

‘Everything’s good,’ he said in a placating voice. ‘Everything’s good.’ He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in an urgent kiss. You didn’t know or understand where this came from. His hands grasped firmly at your shoulders, your back, your buttocks. Things moved so quickly in the freezing shadows of the night-time town that you were suddenly afraid this might evolve into something more.

But more than that, you were afraid of freezing to death.

Hvitserk shimmied his breeks down to his thighs and tugged up your heavy woollen dress. Your hands snapped down to stop him. The frigid air caressed your warm skin causing you to gasp. Hvitserk took the surprised yelp as a rebuttal.

‘What?’ His voice was husky in the darkness.

‘I-It’s cold, and…’

He cut you off with a kiss.

‘A-and I don’t want to do this out here.’

‘I need it,’ he groaned, his lips travelling along your jaw to your neck.

‘Can’t you wait—’ you gasped again, not wanting him to stop completely. ‘Until later. After dinner. We could go to your… oh!… room. Or back to my… house.’

Hvitserk hiked your dress up again and pulled your hips into his. His cock pressed against your thigh, warm and firm as a rock. ‘I can’t wait.’

The answer didn’t surprise you, based on his urgency and current predicament. His cool hands moved to spread your thighs, his erection pressed against your heat. ‘But… Hvitserk. This isn’t the place. Or the time. I’m about to meet your family.’ You put a hand on his chest and he instinctively stopped his amorous pursuit. He pulled back, his nose inches from yours. ‘I can’t walk in there to meet them for the first time with your cum running down the inside of my thighs. Please, can we wait?’

Hvitserk sighed, but he didn’t recoil. He remained pressed to you. Throbbing, ready. It was all you could do to not permit him entry…

‘I don’t know if you will want to later,’ he said with a low rumble. ‘After…’

You pushed against his chest a little firmer, forcing him back so you could peer up into the deep shadows of his eyes. ‘Why would I not want to? Is something wrong, Hvitserk?’

Hvitserk took a deep breath. His hips burrowed further into your skirts for warmth. ‘Listen, Y/N, dinner tonight might be a little bit difficult.’

‘Why? Because of Ivar?’ His cock twitched against your folds and you pressed your thighs around him. Why this? Why now? Why couldn’t you just open up and let him in like you so badly wanted? Because you didn’t want to look and smell like a whore at his mother’s dinner table, that’s why.

‘This has nothing to do with Ivar. It’s my mother. She… likely won’t treat you kindly. After tonight, you might not ever want to see me again.’

That was hardly likely. You rocked your desperate pussy against his length. His eyes closed and his mouth hung open just a little. ‘I don’t think that’s going to happen. I want you, Hvitserk. I will always want you. But later, when I don’t have to look my best.’

His head shook slowly as he rocked his hips against you. ‘Please, let me have this. Let me have this now. I can’t trust that you will still want me later tonight after you’ve spoken to her.’

You squeezed your thighs closed even tighter, forcing him to work hard to slide his constricted cock against your wet pussy. ‘I don’t know what you’re so worried about. Your mother is the queen, and a good one. She seems… reasonable.’

‘Will you let go and trust me? This might be our last ever chance,’ he said, with a level of sorrow in his voice that simultaneously terrified you and caused you to melt. Your thighs slowly parted and he moved with you, slipping between your wet folds and eliciting a belly-deep moan from your softly parted lips.

‘Thank you,’ Hvitserk said. But you didn’t really hear him over your own rapid breaths. You leaned back against the wall of the barn, looking up into a dazzling sky that was shot through with a silver-bullet moon.

Whatever he was afraid of, you were sure it was unmerited. And if the sex was this good now, then it would be even better later, when you were both alone again, and Hvitserk was relaxed and happy as ever.


	2. The Brothers, Grim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their tryst on the way to the great hall, Y/N and Hvitserk are met by a frosty reception by his brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This 2nd and the 3rd chapter were originally one piece, but I split it because it was over 3k words and seemed too long. I'm not sure if the place I split it was right or not, so if it seems a bit cut off, read straight on to chapter 3 which continues straigt on from this one.

The atmosphere of the great hall felt relaxed and unassuming. Tonight, the doors had been shut to outsiders. This was the one night of the week that Queen Aslaug insisted that all her sons be present for a small, family feast.

Hvitserk’s brothers lazed around the room. Ivar, sat at the head of the table. He nursed a mug of ale in one hand, while his other hand grasped a blonde slave girl’s backside. He didn’t look at her. His hand was all the attention he gave.

The blonde one — Sigurd — perched on opposite side of the table to Ivar. He sat where his plate setting should have been, had he not moved it aside. He swung his legs boyishly as he spoke to Ubbe. The older brother leaned against one of the supporting beams, obscured by shadows.

The brothers didn’t notice you arrive, hand-in-hand with Hvitserk. They did not look up until the icy air that stalked you through the door reached the table. The three young men turned to look at you. The slave girl's eyes remained diverted.

Despite fucking out his fears and frustrations, Hvitserk stood rigid. He gripped your hand as though at any moment you might bolt from him. His anxiety fed your own, and you gripped him ever tighter in return.

Sigurd and Ubbe exchanged a glace. The younger brother slid off the table and crossed the room to Ubbe. He looked neither glad nor begrudging at your chill arrival. Ubbe’s eyes remained soft and expectant. In Ivar’s you could see only darkness shot through with a hint of amusement.

‘Are you going to introduce her, brother?’ Ubbe rumbled.

Hvitserk glanced down. His spidery brows pinched together in a look of mixed angst and apology. A half smile curled his lips at the corners, but his forehead remained creased with worry.

Turning to the expectant audience, Hvitserk tugged you along behind him. You tried hard to decipher his expression that you almost forgot their presence.

‘Y/N, these are my brothers — Ubbe, Sigurd and Ivar. The servant over there is Margrethe. She’ll get anything you need.’

You looked at the brothers in turn. Their expression hadn’t changed, though you were sure the smile on Ubbe’s lips was insincere. Sigurd’s lips recoiled, his teeth gnashed together. When your eyes met he looked at you like something he’d stepped in.

Ivar was the only one who bothered to address you. In a forced and phony, gentlemanly gesture, he raised his mug of ale to you and said, ‘Welcome to our home. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. Why don’t you come and sit.’ His face grew smug as he gestured to the place at the far end of the table.

You wondered why he’d chosen that setting as the guest seat. Shouldn’t the end of the table be reserved for the host? A cursory glance at the cutlery told you that Queen Aslaug would likely be sitting next to Ivar. There was gorgeous, fluted wine glass and gold spoons set out for her. The rest of the table was set with beer mugs and silverware.

‘Thank you,’ you said to Ivar. You felt conscious of every breath as you moved under the dark, predatory eyes of the youngest prince. The other two also watched you closely.

Ubbe stepped aside to allow you access to your seat. He smiled wider, warmer and more welcoming than before. Perhaps you’d imagined the insincerity of his previous expression. Sigurd, crossed his arms sullenly and stalked off in front of you to his own seat.

To your left sat Hvitserk, followed by Ubbe. Sigurd was to your right, and the empty place waiting for Alsaug to his other side. Ivar sat opposite you.

When you met Hvitserk's eye he gave you a look of resignation. You got the feeling that in this situation, the man you loved would be the underdog. A fear that he couldn’t protect you from — What? His mother? His brothers? — swept over you like a tidal wave.

But it was stupid, you thought. Aside from Ivar being his usual dark self, and Sigurd coming off as sulky, you were in no danger. And soon the Queen would arrive anyway. Any unfortunate lack of manners on the boys’ part would disappear once their mother came. You were sure of this.

‘So, Y/N. How long have you lived in Kattegat?’ Ubbe asked, breaking the silence.

That made you feel insignificant. You’d hung around Hvitserk and his brothers as a young girl. He should remember you. ‘Um… all my life.’

Ubbe came up blank.

‘You’ve met her before,’ Hvitserk growled through gritted teeth.

‘I remember you,’ Sigurd said. He picked up a spoon and turning it between his fingers so the light reflected his face. ‘Your mother used to be a seamstress until your father got ill. Since then she has remained unemployed to run the family farm.’

Though he looked disinterested, his words had a cutting snip that you didn’t take kindly to. There were a dozen things you wanted to say to him, but found no real cause to defend yourself. After all, he had only stated the truth. In the end, you nodded your head and said, ‘Yes, that’s right.’

At the other end of the table, Ivar sniggered under his breath. You cheeks turned a deep red, and you caught the way that Ubbe fired a soundless shut up in his direction. Ivar glared mockingly into his beer mug.

You had no idea what the two of them had against your mother’s decision to leave her work and run the family farm. After all, their mother, the Queen, had taken on the role of King Ragnar after he disappeared, so many years ago. Things were different for you. Your father was at least still present in your life. King Ragnar’s absence reflected in his sons’ lack of manners, you thought.

‘Her family do quite well for themselves,’ Hvitserk snapped. His retort wasn’t aimed for anyone in particular, but addressed to the whole table. He didn’t meet their eye. ‘Y/N has six brothers. They all work and raid. You are forgetting that both of her grandfather's were influential in Ragnar's day. Her father now oversees the grain trade. They do well.’

You flashed a coy smile at Hvitserk. What he’d said was true. After your father became ill with the pox, he had lost the use of one of his hands and become blind in one eye. But in recent years he’d become prominent in trade. He had since managed to accumulate wealth for the family, even if he couldn’t fight.

Your father’s mental health had suffered, though. It saddened you to think how he often referred to himself as ‘useless’ or ‘half a man’. He also no longer played an active part in the religious festivals. He was afraid that the gods might curse him for only being half a man.

A warm hand on your thigh under the table brought you back from your thoughts. Not least of all because it reminded you of Hvitserk’s hot touch in the darkness, as the two of your fucked in the shadows. You wondered if they knew — could his brothers tell what the two of you did on the way here? You felt dirty.

Hvitserk leaned in to whisper in your ear, ‘Are you all right? We can go, if you want?’

He pulled back to looked deep into your eyes, scanning your expression for any sign of wanting to leave.

No, you would not run away. You were certain that Hvitserk’s anxiety on the way to the hall had lead you to be over-suspicious. The more you thought on the behaviour of his brothers, the more suspicious you became. And so began the vicious cycle.

You smiled then shook your head. Hvitserk relaxed just a little, and it put you at ease.

A door at the rear of the hall flew open, and two servants came through carrying large platters of food. Baked fish, salads, and bread rolls arranged on smaller plates. The servants got to work loading it onto the table.

Behind them, a darker presence breezed into the room that made your stomach pinch. Queen Aslaug strode across the hall. Her golden hair, pinned back at the front, hung in lazy waves over her shoulders. Her dress suggested more wealth than you had ever seen.

She stopped with a scowl when she reached the table.


	3. Cold, Dead Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The atmosphere at dinner worsens when Aslaug voices her opinion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in the notes of chapter 2, this chapter has been split in half and is a direct continuation of the one before it. Enjoy!

‘No, no. I said no salad tonight. Where is the soup? Fetch the soup!’

At the queen’s command, the servants cleared the salad plates away and scurried out of the room. Ubbe rose and circled the table to pull out his mother’s seat so she could sit. When she didn’t, he stood waiting patiently.

‘Oh, you’re here,’ Queen Aslaug said to you with a passing glance. She scanned the table. ‘You’re all here. Good. Ivar, what is Margrethe doing here tonight? I told you we were having a guest.’

In a strange show of childishness, Ivar turned innocent doe eyes on his mother and flashed her a smile. ‘She is keeping me company. You don’t want me to be lonely, do you mother?’

Aslaug smiled sweetly at her son, as if he’d charmed her. ‘Alright then. She stays. So long as she makes herself useful.’

You thought the whole thing was ridiculous.

Aslaug sat as Ubbe pushed the chair beneath her. She did not look up at her son or thank him. As Ubbe returned to his seat, a deathly silence fell.

You now began to wonder if what Hvitserk had been talking about was true. Aslaug had been rude to you. All her sons had been rude to you, except for Hvitserk, and now the atmosphere was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

It seemed like a long wait for the soup. And the atmosphere grew colder than the fish which spoiled on the platters. The Queen was stubborn enough to eat it cold.

‘Hvitserk, introduce your guest.’ Aslaug looked down at her place setting, instead of at her son.

Hvitserk gave you a slight nod and a smile. ‘Mother, this is my… well, my fiancée, Y/N. Y/N, this is my mother, Aslaug, Queen of Norway.’

When Aslaug said nothing you offered a shy, ‘It is very nice to meet you, Queen Aslaug.’

The Queen looked up and pressed her lips together into a hard line that terrified you.

‘It seems we have something to discuss,’ the Queen said. The soup course bustled in and bowls of steaming broth were placed before everyone. Margarethe went to fetch the correct spoons. You felt sorry for the slave, having to witness meals like this on a regular basis. You were glad that Hvitserk had mentioned the two of you living alone after the marriage. You didn’t think you could stomach living here with Queen Aslaug or her haughty sons.

‘We should leave it for later, and not drag this out in front of our guest,’ said Ubbe.

Sigurd sniggered under his breath.

You did not want to push your way into a family discussion, but you were eager to know what important things they had to talk about. King Ragnar returned a few days ago. Was it to do with his idea of his sons raiding with him in England?

‘No, I think we should talk about it now,’ Sigurd said smugly. ‘After all, we are all gathered.’

Ivar snorted at Sigurd, and Ubbe rolled his eyes.

At least from this seat of the table, you had access to everyone’s reactions.

‘I think we should leave it,’ Ubbe said again.

‘Wine!’ Queen Aslaug barked and you jumped.

Hvitserk grabbed your hand under the table. ‘I warned you,’ he whispered.

He had. And now you saw why. The dynamic at the table was odd and the atmosphere grew even heavier. You found it hard to breathe.

Poor Margrethe made the rounds with a flagon, filling up the glasses with beer. She poured wine for the Queen from a carafe.

‘I agree with Sigurd,’ Ivar said, and everyone shot him a look, including you. ‘We are all here. We should do it now.’

‘Shut up!’ Ubbe growled. ‘You’re turning it into a joke.’

‘Well it is not a joke!’ Aslaug barked. ‘We are not all going to sit around this table and pretend there’s nothing going on. Ubbe, you know it’s a matter of duty.’

‘I don’t think this is the right time,’ Ubbe replied gingerly.

‘This is the perfect time. There are serious matters that need discussing now. This is an important family and marrying into it is serious business.’

Hvitserk’s hand clamped down on your knee. You wanted to yelp but refrained. You — they were talking about you.

‘We should not discuss it in front of her,’ said Ubbe.

‘Why not?’ asked Sigurd, slipping his spoon in his soup.

‘Because it’s not fair,’ said Hvitserk. ‘We will discuss it later.’

They might as well discuss it now, since they were already talking about you like you weren’t there. Your cheeks burned hot.

A servant appeared then, and slipped a plate of butter onto the table. ‘What is this?’ Aslaug snapped. ‘Get out!’

The servant almost tripped running out of the room.

‘Mother,’ Hvitserk said through gritted teeth. ‘I hoped you would be happy for us. But obviously that isn’t going to happen. I was going to do it properly and announce our engagement at the Thing. I wanted to explain it to you. But Ivar — who was spying on us — spread the rumour around and spoiled it before I could tell you. And you've formed an opinion before meeting Y/N. And I’m sorry you feel the way you do, but Y/N and I made it official last week. We are engaged, and no matter what you say we are going to get married… before winter.’

The hall was so silent you were sure you could hear the first snowflakes falling outside. The silence broke with a stifled snort from Ivar. Sigurd grinned as he ate, relishing the entertainment.

You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you. You were mortified, and you didn't even have a response to defend yourself.

Aslaug smiled to herself ruefully. ‘Well, of course you are going to get married, Hvitserk. But not to her.’

You took the blow like a punch to the stomach. It left you winded, unable to speak.

‘It’s time you grew up — and you Ubbe — and made something of your lives. You need a woman. One to breed with.’

‘We should all eat,’ Ubbe said, reaching for some bread.

‘We will eat when we have finished our discussion,’ Aslaug said.

Sigurd rolled his eyes and dropped his spoon in the soup with a splash.

‘You’re being unfair,’ Hvitserk choked out.

‘I am not being unfair. We cannot have unsuitable people marrying into this family. You should know better than this, Hvitserk. I know you like to mess around, and as a son of a king you are entitled to as many women as you like. But you need to understand what your responsibilities to this family are.’

‘You’ve gone mad,’ Hvitserk growled.

You sat there in silence. Tears stung your eyes as Aslaug squished your happiness under foot like a bug. You were sure you and Hvitserk were a good match. For a start, you loved one another. Wasn't that enough?

‘You haven’t thought about this,’ she went on. ‘I’m sure Y/N understands. She wishes to settle down and farm. Isn’t that right, Y/N? I’ve heard you talking about how much you want to be like your mother, to settle down on a farm and raise your children.’

You opened your mouth to answer but she continued:

‘A girl like Y/N has no idea what it’s like to be in this family, Hvitserk.’

‘I’ve heard enough,’ Hvitserk snapped. ‘This is about her mother.’ He pushed his chair away from the table with a screech of wood against the floor.

‘This isn’t about her mother. She wasn’t raised to marry into royalty. She wasn’t bred for it. You come from two completely different worlds. It would never work. Not for you,’ she said pointedly to you, ‘and not for us.’

'I-I...' you began, but couldn't find the words to go on.

‘This conversation is over,’ Hvitserk said, pushing himself up from the table. ‘You can forget dinner. I am not going to sit here—’

‘You are one day going to rule part of your father’s dynasty. That is what you are going to be doing. And when you do you’re going to need the right kind of girl at your side. This isn’t some backwards fishing village where you can pretend to be a jarl. This is Kattegat, an important place. And to rule your share of it you need an important woman. Whatever happened to that Ingrid girl? I liked her. Do you still talk to her?’

‘No! No, I don’t talk to her because I am not engaged to marry her. I’m engaged to marry Y/N. And I never talked to her, you talked to her. You liked her. I didn’t. This is ridiculous. We’re leaving.’ Hvitserk grabbed your hand and yanked you up from your seat.

‘What a shame,’ Aslaug moaned. ‘I loved Ingrid.’

Hvitserk growled through gnashed teeth, tugged on your hand and stormed for the door. Behind you, Queen Aslaug had more to say.

‘Hvitserk, you have to understand. You proposed to this girl and brought her home without talking to me first. You didn't think of the consequences. We have to take this seriously. Hvitserk, come back. Come back here!’

‘I don’t understand!’ You cried as you reached the door.

Hvitserk didn’t stop. He pulled you through it and slammed it behind you, silencing the protests of the Queen.


	4. The Sound of Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaken from the argument with Aslaug, Hvitserk is tense with rage. You decide not to discuss the matter, but find a way to get him to decompress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rubbish at writing these summaries. In the next chapter they come to terms with what's happened and will need to make a plan.

Hvitserk’s hand wrapped around yours was the only warmth that graced your skin. The first snow of late autumn now fell steadily over the roofs and pathways of Kattegat. Underfoot the mud turned to slush and your soft leather shoes splashed through it.

Deep pants escaped your chest as you hurried to keep up. You were afraid that if you slowed even for a moment he’d pull you right off your feet. The icy air stung your throat and your cheeks. Huge snowflakes settled on your lashes, making it hard to see in the darkness.

Still you could not form words. You couldn’t tell what angered you more — the rude treatment by Hvitserk’s brothers? Or the callous words of his shrewish mother? Or was it your own inability to defend yourself when you needed to?

You’d trained for battle with the other shieldmaidens. If Aslaug came at you with a knife you wouldn’t hesitate to parry and disarm her. With that sort of situation you were lightning fast. Why, then, couldn’t you defend yourself against her verbal attacks?

Because you weren’t prepared for it. You hadn’t expected someone you’d thought of as a noble and gracious queen to be so downright snobbish and callous.

Rational thinking had you believing that you’d caught her at a bad time. That Hvitserk’s not being able to tell her about the engagement himself had somehow upset the apple cart.

But the unforgiving side of your thoughts whirled with inferiority. You were not good enough, they said. So long as you weren’t the daughter of royalty you would never be enough for Hvitserk. Why did he keep dragging you on along with him when he’d be better off leaving you out here to freeze?

Even more hurtful than Queen Aslaug’s words was Hvitserk’s reaction. Though he had whisked you out of the Great Hall, he trudged on in silence, towing you behind him. His silence frightened you. It encapsulated a darkness you’d never seen from him before. You thought that even if you had the words to yell or complain or sob about what had happened, Hvitserk would say nothing anyway.

You reached the edge of town where the turf-roof cabins gave out to rough-hewn huts. It was here that Hvitserk and his brothers owned a small workman’s shack. It was a place they could come that was out of Aslaug’s sight. They drank here, entertained women, and used if for shelter on hunting trips.

Hvitserk threw open the door with one hand and you winced. He let go of you and burst inside. You hovered in the doorway. If this was his mood, you’d better go, you thought. But you watched him throw logs into the firepit and strike the tinder with the fire-steel. His face grew yellow from the blooms of flame, his expression a mask of brokenness. You couldn’t leave him, not now.

You entered the shack and closed the door, trapping the heat of the growing fire within the walls. No one had been here for a few weeks, since the temperatures plummeted. The air smelled damp and mildewy. You could see your breath on the air when you sighed at the swelling heat.

Hvitserk slammed two horn ale mugs down on a table. He then uncorked the tap on a barrel of beer and filled the cups to the brim. When he turned on you his expression was forlorn and apologetic, but still he didn’t speak.

You took the mug from his extended hand. Hvitserk set himself on one of the logs that surrounded the central firepit. His shoulders sagged. He looked as apathetic as a man who’d been kicked to the curb and who’d had all his wealth stolen from him. A far cry from the proud and sometimes pompous figure that Hvitserk usually cut.

With tentative feet you crossed the room and perched next to him. Hvitserk ran his tongue along the line of his teeth then swept his hand over his face in disbelief.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked to you, weary.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said. It was all you could manage. The words caught in your throat, far-sounding and unrecognisable as your own voice.

Hvitserk shook his head. His mouth hung open still in shock. ‘No… No, you’re not the one who should be sorry. You’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘I should have given you more time to speak to her. When you invited me for dinner I jumped at the chance. I didn’t think it through. I knew what had happened with Ivar spreading his rumours. I— I’m so sorry, Hvitserk.’

When Hvitserk straightened and turned to you there was sorrow in his eyes. He rested his hand on your knee and gave it a supportive rub. ‘It’s not your fault. I don’t want you blaming yourself. I’m so… angry. I’m so angry I’m shaking.’

You hadn’t noticed, but when he held up his hand it tremored from emotional stress. You placed your cup down and took it in both your hands. ‘Hvitserk, it’s alright. We don’t have to talk about it now.’

‘But we will, eventually.’

‘Yes, tomorrow. You look awful.’

‘I am so sorry.’ His green eyes found yours, heavy with sadness.

‘Come here.’ You pulled Hvitserk into you. He rested his forehead on your shoulder. There was only one thing you could think of that would make him feel better. That started with taking the beer mug from his hand and leading him across the room to the fur laden bed.

He didn’t resist or hesitate. Hvitserk followed you to the bed. He showed no interest in sex but stripped naked regardless. No matter how cold it was, Hvitserk never went to bed clothed.

The room had warmed enough now for you take off your heavy woollen dressed. You let them drop to the floor in a puddle of fabrics. You kicking them off your feet and dived beneath the furs before the cool air had chance to graze your skin.

Hvitserk fell lazily into bed. The blankets lifted and a blast cold air that prickled your skin with goose bumps found your nakedness. You gasped and hugged yourself, but you were soon warmed by Hvitserk's muscular arms. He rested his head on your breast, nothing but heat between you.

The silence extended. Knowing that he wasn’t angry with you calmed your anxiety, and you relaxed, exhausted by the trauma of the night. Hvitserk shifted, unable to let go. The tension in his shoulders braced against you making it hard to get comfortable. You knew what to do. You reached for his hand and guided it between your thighs.

Some men found solace in food or ale. Some in anger and fighting. But you knew the only way to relax Hvitserk Ragnarsson was to slip his hand between your thighs and allow his fingers to explore.

As he worked at your pussy his shoulders relaxed and the tension melted out of both of you. His long fingers drew soft circles on your clit. The sensation encouraged your legs to slide wider, granting him entrance to your warm folds. His fingers slowly slid toward your core. He worked them in and out, and then returned them, moist and eager to your clit.

The smell that rose from you was heady and musky under the blanket. The smell of sex. Hvitserk’s head moved further down your body, coming to a stop on your stomach. His fingers alternated between a gentle rock inside your pussy, and circling your pearl until your chest rose and fell heavily with pleasure. Your hips undulated beneath his head as the gasps and moans rose in crescendo. Your fingers found the sheet and you fisted it in both hands.

Hvitserk brought you to a climax with swift eagerness. You spilled over, arching your back and bucking your pelvis against his hand. Tremoring with small aftershocks, you rose up to rest your forehead on the curve of his shoulder. There you caught your breath before falling back against the mattress.

Soft pants escaping both your lips and the crackle of the fire were the only noises. All was calm and quiet. Even the air was still.

Hvitserk’s hand came to rest on your pubis, his fingers entwined in damp wisps of hair. With a sigh, the last ounces of stress melted away and his head grew heavy. He stayed there, resting on your stomach in his happy place where you heady scent lulled him to a deep sleep.

Even after the exhaustion and the sweet release of orgasm, you could not sleep. The words of Queen Aslaug spun around your head until the fire died away and you were forced from under Hvitserk to stoke it back to life. Hvitserk did not disturb as rose and wrapped yourself in one of the furs. Once the fire was going well again you sat and watched him sleep. Your thoughts hounded you; they would not leave you alone. You wondered if it would be easier for you both if you disappeared into the dead of night, never to return.


	5. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader attempts to leave Hvitserk, but will he stop her?

The sky bloomed pinks and oranges as morning dawned. The colours faded to greet a milky pearl sun on the horizon. Bright but blistering cold. Unable to find rest even hours later, you busied yourself with cleaning the cabin. Though the place wasn’t yours, it gave you something to do while you made up your mind.

You stirred the fire and added logs to keep the cabin warm. You beat the dust from the hanging fabrics, brushed away cobwebs, stacked the wooden plates and bowls neatly. You washed the cups you’d used the night before, then you washed all the others because you had nothing else to do. You brushed the floor — a huge job since none of the Ragnarssons ever thought to do it. And then you arranged the knives and spoons in a decorative jug because…

Why were you even doing this? The cabin wasn’t important to you or Hvitserk. It was somewhere you’d chosen to spend the night and nothing else. It wasn’t like the pair of you could live there in that draughty hunting shack in the dead of winter. You’d freeze. It lacked food or supplies apart from a few barrels of aged ale. Your parents and brothers would hate to see you holed up in a grimy little place like this. But worst of all was the nagging feeling that you would soon go home to your family without a ring on your finger.

You wanted to marry Hvitserk because you loved him. It had nothing to do with status or popularity. But now it was clear the engagement had to come to an end. Hvitserk couldn’t marry you — you we not enough.

Not high born enough.

Not educated enough.

Not rich enough.

Not bred to support your husband who would rule over a part of his famous father’s kingdom.

You put the broom away and poured two cups of ale. The one you drank down right away to give you courage. The other you left in the middle of the table. You placed a hunk of dried cheese and some salt meat next to it. At least Hvitserk would breakfast when he woke up. He deserved not to be abandoned with an empty stomach. It there was one thing that Hvitserk couldn’t cope with, then it was an empty stomach. Waking to find you gone was one thing, but waking hungry after having no dinner the night before was something else.

You picked up your dresses from the cabin floor and rushed to put them on, missing out some of the laces. You slid on your shoes and laced them up, then leaned across the bed to give Hvitserk a last kiss on the forehead.

He lay there prone, curled up exactly as you’d left him. He looked so peaceful, so unaware. And beautiful. Hvitserk was always beautiful, asleep or awake. But with his eyes closed and completely relaxed it broke your heart to walk away from him.

As your lips grazed his forehead you breathed in his masculine, musky scent. You would miss it. You would miss the feel of his arms around you. The tenderness as he brought you into his chest and kissed you like you were the only woman alive. You would miss the way he relaxed with you, became someone different to the swaggersome prince with a chip on his shoulder.

The pain in your chest was too much. You could stay no longer. Your heart couldn't take it. You rose and turned on your heel without saying goodbye.

A hand shot out and clamped your wrist. You squawked as Hvitserk pulled you down onto the bed. You landed on your backside as his hands circled your waist.

Why did he have to wake up now? If you looked into his eyes you’d never be able to leave him. The tears spilled over and rolled down your cheeks.

‘Hey. What time is it? It feels like it’s late.’ Hvitserk sighed against your ribs as his eyes blinked open. At first his expression scrunched in confusion. His eyes travelled up to your face and he saw the tears.

Hvitserk sat up and pulled you into his chest. Now you would never be able to leave him. Not with your head pressed against his warm skin.

‘Something’s happened. What’s going on?’

‘I… I…’ you sobbed.

‘Shhh.’ Hvitserk rubbed soothing circles on your back. You melted against him. Your tears soaked his chest as your shoulders shook with heaving sobs.

‘It’s alright. It’s alright.’

‘I-I’m sorry, Hv-Hvitserk.’

‘What for? I don’t understand what’s happened.’

‘I was l-leaving you.’

His shoulders stiffened as he took the blow in silence. He took a few deep breaths before he was able to speak. ‘Leaving me?’ came his husky baritone laced with fear

‘Yes.’ You nodded against his chest. The moisture from your tears had pooled on his skin. You pulled your long sleeve down over your hand and wiped your cheeks. Then you made an attempt to blot his chest, but Hvitserk’s hand came up and grasped your wrist, forcing you to stop. ‘I was about to go.’

His hand travelled the length of your arm and wound up into your hair, holding you closer to his chest. ‘Leaving me… Have I done something? Don’t you love me anymore?’ His brows pinched.

Of course you loved him. His doubt pushed you to sob harder. ‘I love you, I really do. And you haven’t done anything. Nothing at all except for love me and make me happy.’

‘So you’re leaving me?’ Hurt laced his voice. You got the feeling that if Hvitserk had done something he’d have tried to make it right. But as things stood he was powerless to change things. You saw this struggle play out on his face.

‘I don’t want to leave you. I want to marry you. I want to have your children.’ You wriggled free from his arms and he let you go. Sitting up, you wiped your eyes and made your best attempt at explaining yourself.

‘I am not a good woman for you. I wouldn’t be able to support you if you became a king. I’m not rich or powerful. I don’t even own much jewellery. I don’t know who the kings and queens of the neighbouring territories are or how to make treaties or how to stop a war. All I know is how to make clothes or milk a cow. I could run a farm and raise children and pay taxes all my life. But can I be a queen? No. I can’t be a queen because your stupid mother — oh dear gods I’m sorry for saying it, but your mother is stupid. She doesn’t understand love or what a real marriage is or—’

‘Hey, hey, hey!’ Hvitserk stopped you by holding up his hand. ‘Whoa. We need to talk about this, but we need to slow down. Yes, I agree my mother is stupid. She behaves like a little stuck-up girl most of the time. And every year that goes by it gets worse. She tries to control us, she tries to control everything.’

‘Well, she’s supposed to. She’s the queen!’

‘Yes, I know, Y/N. But I’m a free man. I have the ultimate decision when it comes to what I do or don’t do. Do you understand me?’

You nodded and wiped the residual dampness from your cheeks. ‘I know this. But she won’t stop hating me, will she? She’ll carry on being horrible to you, like she was last night. And even if you don’t believe her, eventually you’ll come to hate me because all you’ll get from here is nagging and whining.’

‘No, that is not true. I love you, Y/N. And as a free man and future king, I make the ultimate decision. And I chose you. All I want is to marry you. Nothing else. I don’t even care if we have children right away. I don’t care where we live, or how. I don’t care if we have to build a shelter out of sticks up on the mountain. You and I are getting married. And by midwinter, like we planned.’

You smiled though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. ‘I would understand if you listened to your mother and you left me. It would hurt, but I would understand.’

‘Shhh, that’s enough. Nobody is leaving anybody. We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to get married.’

Hvitserk’s stomach let out a long, low groan. His hand instinctively settled on his toned skin.

‘Oh no! I forgot to even get you anything to eat. You haven’t eaten since the morning meal my mother gave you, and it’s all my fault.’

Hvitserk laughed. ‘Not even being hungry bothers me when I’m with you.’

‘Wow,’ you said, smiling. ‘You must _really_ love me.’

‘I do love you. We will work this out.’ Hvitserk brought you into his arms once more. He cupped your face in his big hands and swept you into a passionate kiss.


	6. The Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visit from Ubbe throws a spanner in the works, while Hvitserk asks you to make an important choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I updated this one. I got sidetracked with a couple of other projects. I hope to update again really soon.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Hvitserk was able to let you go. He'd clung to you all day with a natural fear of losing you if his grip on your body loosened. Even when you rose to get him some food, he followed.

He pulled on his clothes. The fire had heated the cabin since you arrived last night, but now the flames dwindled.

'I'll fetch some more logs from the store around the back,' Hvitserk said. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 'Don't go anywhere.'

You smiled up at him, ashamed of almost abandoning him. 'I won't. I promise.'

'Remember, don't worry. We'll work this out. I swear we'll marry by Yule. Until then, be by my side.'

'I promise.'

Hvitserk left. You looked around the cabin. It was clean, thanks to your lack of sleep, and you'd cleared the cups and bowls already. The exhaustion of the night before settled on your eyes, and you lay back on the bed, resting them. Comfortable and warm, you felt yourself drifting when you heard raised voices outside.

'Now what?' You sighed, dragging yourself up from the bed and going to investigate, wrapped in a blanket.

The heavy snow of the night before had ceased. Deep drifts blanketed the side of the cabin, everything looked fresh and white, made new.

Fresh footprints led from the door around the back of the building, and a second set came in from the town. Two male voices battled in harsh tones. You brought the blanket closer around your shoulders, and you followed the tracks.

The log store behind the cabin looked like one giant snowdrift. Hvitserk had uncovered the logs and taken dry ones from beneath the tarred sheet. He'd dumped them in a wide pail to bring them inside, which was now discarded at his feet.

'I don't care if she sent you,' Hvitserk said. 'I don't have to listen to her malicious ramblings. You should go.'

‘I can't do that, little brother,' said Ubbe. 'She wants you to hear what she has to say.'

'No.'

'Yes,' you chimed in. 'You should come into the cabin. It's cold out here, and you should join us by the fire for a drink.'

'Thank you,' Ubbe said, then shot his brother a sneer before heading in your direction.

Ubbe didn't need leading to the cabin. He'd been here plenty of times before. But an unspoken dichotomy of "us versus them" demanded formality.

Inside, you set to work filling three cups with ale. You motioned for Ubbe to sit, shuddering at the open door until Hvitserk came in with the pail of logs. He shut the door behind him, barring out the snow. Settling the logs on the edge of the fire pit to dry, Hvitserk sat opposite his brother. You handed out the cups and sat next to Hvitserk. His fingers clamped down on your hand in a show of solidarity.

'What is it she wants?' Hvitserk asked.

'Hear me out before you jump to conclusions,' Ubbe replied.

Your thumb circling the back of Hvitserk's hand seemed to calm him. But still, he wouldn't make eye contact with his brother. His head tilted forward, his mouth set in a hard like.

'Mother presents you with a choice.' Ubbe brought the ale to his lips and supped. 'She wants you to know that you'll always be welcome in her house. You will always be her son. But it's her role not only as your mother but as your Queen, to educate you and help you make the right choices.'

Hvitserk sniggered. 'And what choice does she have for me?'

You took a deep breath and held it in. The inkling of ultimatums forming in your mind knotted your stomach. Your heart thudded against your chest. You clung on to Hvitserk, matching the tight grip of his hands with your own.

'Father is not going to be around forever,' Ubbe began. 'He is old. The men he gathers for his England expedition are old and weak. Our time comes, Hvitserk. Sooner, rather than later, Father will be gone, and we will need to step up and take his place. There's no way Mother will allow Bjorn to rule all his territory. We are all sons of Ragnar. We must all claim what is rightfully ours.'

Hvitserk sniffed, lifted his cup and took a deep drink. 'And Mother thinks I can't rule if Y/N is my wife.'

'It's not just about that. It's about producing heirs.' Apology narrowed Ubbe's eyes as he glanced up at you and then back to his brother. 'Mother thinks the bloodline should stay pure. Father's ancestors are kings, all the way back to Odin. Mother's line is from Sigurd and Brunhilde, all the way back to the Volsungs. You see the importance of keeping royal blood unmarred by,' Ubbe looked at you once more. 'By the blood of farmers and traders.'

'Don't,' Hvitserk said through clenched teeth. 'Don't speak ill of Y/N or her family.'

'It's alright,' you said. 'I know Ubbe speaks the truth.'

'No!' Hvitserk growled. 'Lagertha was a farmer. Her family were farmers. Her line of people is farmers all the way back to the beginning. Are you trying to tell me that Bjorn's claim to father's legacy is any less than ours?'

'Of course not!' Ubbe snapped. 'Bjorn is as much Ragnar's son as we are. And he will inherit a larger portion. But it's our job to keep the line as pure as we can, so our children know where they came from. Their lives will intertwine with the sagas and stories of our people.'

'He has a point, Hvitserk,' you say meekly. 'Discounting Ivar, there's only the three of you to continue your bloodline. If anything were to happen to Ubbe and Sigurd, that honour would fall on you alone.'

Hvitserk's teeth clamped down on his bottom lip. 'So what is her message, then?'

'Mother says she cannot bless your wedding. She cannot allow it to go ahead in light of such things. You are free to see Y/N as often as you wish, but you must marry a woman with royal blood.'

Hvitserk looked up at you, and you flashed him a sad smile. You knew this couldn't go on. All you could do was support him until he decided to leave you. You wouldn't be the one to leave, not after how much you'd hurt him earlier that morning.

'Her message is simple - if you leave Y/N and come back to the Hall, she will ensure Y/N's family is well taken care of. She will provide Y/N with a suitable husband from her Warband. There will be no hard feelings between the throne and her family.'

Hvitserk's lip curled back in disgust. 'And if I refuse?'

'You can't inherit your portion of Ragnar's lands. Until you submit to her will, Bjorn will hold your lands as regent.'

Hvitserk sighed and stared deep into the bottom of his cup.

A lump formed in the back of your throat. You knew you had to do the right thing for Hvitserk, and that meant leaving him so he could receive his legacy.

Hvitserk nodded and drained his cup, tossing it across the cabin over his shoulder.

'Then, so be it!' he snarled. 'Tell mother I accept her terms.'

Tears pricked your eyes. You knew he had to choose duty over you, but it still hurt.

'I don't want to be an heir. I don't want any of Ragnar's lands, his fame, a crown, a Hall or a throne. Tell her I rescind it all. Tell her to waste it all on Bjorn, because Y/N means more than any of it.'

You gasped. 'Hvitserk, no! If you do this can't go back on it.'

Hvitserk gave your hand a placating pat then turned back to his brother. 'That's all we have to say.'

Ubbe nodded. He finished his cup of ale and stood. Even receiving such news, a twinkle of excitement formed in his eye. 'So be it. I hope you will be happy.'

A cold blast swept the cabin as Ubbe left. A quiet stillness remained. You breathed hard, puffing out air in disbelief.

'You should have taken more time to think about it,' you said, voice small in the aftermath.

Hvitserk shook his head. 'No. Marrying a farmer and producing heirs with her was good enough for my father, and look where he ended up. A run-away; a renegade.'

He turned to you and cupped your face in his hands. 'I love you, Y/N. But I don't expect you to do the same for me. If you don't want me, say it now.'

'I do want you,' you plead urgently. 'I want you more than anything, Hvitserk. I would do anything for you. I'm sorry I got in the way of your fate.'

'You got in the way of nothing,' he replied in his silken baritone. 'I'm going to ask something of you. I know you love your family, but can you do without them for a little while? A few months, until we're married?'

You nodded. Your mother, father and brothers had always been first place in your heart. You loved your family. If it was just a few months until your marriage, you could manage. Yet you were sceptical of what Hvitserk planned.

'What do you mean for us to do?'

'We have to go away.'

'Where?'

'I don't know. But I know my mother. If we stay here, she'll send her Warband after us, and I'm afraid I can't protect you from them.'

You swallowed hard. 'Then we leave until we can get married?'

Hvitserk nodded. 'Just a little while until I can make sure we're safe from her. Once we're married, there's no way she can separate us.'

'And what about my family, will they be safe if we leave?'

He stroked your cheeks with his thumbs. 'The further we go, the safer they'll be. They mustn't know where we're going. In fact, we should leave today without anyone knowing about it. I need you to trust me. Can you do that?'

You nodded. 'Until we get married.'

'Until we get married,' he replied, sweeping in for a long, slow kiss.


	7. Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you're both discovered missing, Alsaug sends men after you. Disaster strikes Hvitsark on the mountain.

Your mother's tears still soak the collar of the heavy fur cloak Hvitserk gave you. Stay strong, try not to cry, you told yourself. Yet, walking away was the hardest thing you'd done.

Hvitserk waited for you under cover of some trees. To save raising suspicion, he'd managed to pilfer one horse from the royal stable. It was a good, strong-backed draft horse, big enough to carry you both.

As Kattegat faded away, you sat towards the front of the horse, hanging on to the pommel of the saddle. Hvitserk, the more experienced rider, sat behind you. He had more control from the back, and there was ample room between his arms for him to hold the reigns in a relaxed grasp.

'Won't the horse tire of carrying us both?' you asked. It was all you could think to say. The day drained you with its emotional assaults and the rawness of leaving your family hurt.

'We have to be careful, having two in the saddle,' Hvitserk said in your ear. 'I can't sit too far back on the hindquarter. This might be a large horse, but if I put too much stress on his rear loins, he'll throw us both. Don't squeeze too hard with your legs, either. He needs space to move with ease.'

It was easier said than done. This horse was more suited to pulling carts and heavy ploughs, not carrying riders. His back was broad, putting pressure on your open hips.

You tried to relax into the movement. Hvitserk pulled you a little further back in the saddle, so you were both balanced as much at the horse's mid-point as space allowed. Your back pressed into his chest, his groin wedged firmly against your backside.

How could you be thinking about sex at a time like this? When Hvitserk had stolen a horse, and you'd abandoned your family to run away with him?

The fact of the matter: He was a source of warmth in the bitterly cold winds and gentle undulations of the horse, causing him to rub against you; it was too much.

You cleared your throat. 'Where are we going?'

'We'll travel until nightfall. If the horse can get us quickly over the mountain, I'll be happy to dismount and let you have the saddle. About half-way down the other side is a disused barn. It'll be a cold night, but it will provide us with shelter. We can go in the morning to the next town, and from there, who knows?'

'We could always get married at the next town and go home,' you said, voice thick with hope.

'I wish that was the case. You know they'll be coming after us as soon as they realise we're gone.'

'I know. A girl can dream. We need a plan, Hvitserk.'

He nuzzled against your ear as reassurance. You couldn't tell who was the coldest. 'Let's get to the next town. I have contacts. Give me time, and I promise I'll work something out. I won't have you sleeping in a barn all winter.'

'Good. My legs are already like ice. I can't imagine being much colder.'

The wind howled down the mountain, impeding the horses' progress. It was a bad idea, starting out so late in the day. You both knew it. And you were certain Hvitserk spoke the truth when he said his mother would send men after them. If you didn't move today, they'd separate you by force in the night.

The bulky horse moved at a slow gait over steep terrain peppered with rocks through dense forest. Adding insult to injury, a fine layer of flakes billowed down the mountain.

'We'd move faster on foot,' you complained as twilight fell.

'You're right,' Hvitserk said. 'But if we stop here, our only option is to make camp under a tree and hope we don't freeze.'

Cold through and annoyed, you sunk down into the fur cloak. Your face, fingers and knees were numb from cold, and you'd all but lost the feeling in your feet.

Reaching the top of the mountain, the last of the light had faded to a sliver in the distance. Hvitserk stopped the horse on the crest.

'Let's give the horse a few minutes rest before we make our way down. The cabin isn't far, perhaps another hour away, and the track down is open and less rocky.'

'Brilliant,' you moaned. Hvitserk dismounted first, holding the horse while you swung a leg over its back. The blood hadn't fully reached your toes as you fell to the ground, stumbling on uneven footing. Hvitserk caught your elbow and pulled you up to your feet. You wanted to smack him away, but his radiating warmth drew you in.

Not being the fastest or most inspired of beasts, Hvitserk dropped the reigns and let the horse wander. He nuzzled in the snow for grass to crop, but the recent flurries had covered it.

'What will we feed him?' you asked, concerned about the horse's wellbeing. 'We only have clothes in the saddlebag and enough food for us.'

'He'll manage,' Hvitserk said. He pulled you in close, cupping your face with thick-gloved hands, and swept his lips across yours in a deep kiss. 'Not having any regrets, are you?'

'Which answer means I don't have to freeze to death?' Though your tone was laced with sarcasm, Hvitserk heard the amusement in it and chuckled.

'As soon as we get to that cabin,' he said, with earnest, 'I have ways of keeping you warm.'

He grabbed your hips and yanked them into him, allowing you to feel precisely what ways he meant.

'How can you want that while we're out here freezing?'

There was just enough light to see the smirk spread across his lips. 'I've had you rubbing against me for hours. It had a certain effect.'

He bent to kiss you again, and the wind and the snow faded to a warmth in your loins that you couldn't deny.

'Then you'd better get me on that horse and down to the cabin because there's a lot of warming up to do.'

You both smirked and chuckled, leaning in for another quick kiss.

From the treeline came a horn blast. Its deep-bellied trill rang out in the silence of the evening, startling the horse to shy. You jumped and clung to Hvitserk. He pulled you behind him as he scanned the dark like of firs.

'Who is it?' you asked, breath catching in your throat.

'My mother's men. Who else?'

With the deepening shadows of the forest behind you, you were unable to see through the firs. Every protrusion caused a shadow, every branch a sword.

'We have to run,' you said, panicked.

‘You go. I'll try to get rid of the men.' He pushed you away behind him, but you refused to go.

‘No, Hvitserk, you have to come with me. Please. Let's get on the horse and leave.'

He turned and cupped your face. 'I can't run. I have to be accountable for my actions. My mother will be expecting some word from me. No please, get on the horse, hold the reigns ready. As soon as I can, I'll be with you.'

Hvitserk turned to the brow of the crest, the wind battering at him as you headed for the horse. You gathered up the reigns of the enormous beast and tugged, but he refused to move. The horse turned his head and looked for the more experienced rider. Sensing your fear, the horse wouldn't let you lead him away. He tugged back on the reigns, lifting his head and shaking it. You gave up, turning to see where Hvitserk went.

He'd gone a little way back down the mountain. Peering past him, you saw the shadows move out of the trees. Twenty men, you thought. Maybe twenty-five. They stalked upwards at the same speed Hvitserk descended. His hands were up in willing surrender.

'Hvitserk, son of Ragnar,' one of the unidentifiable shadows shouted. 'Your mother, Queen Aslaug, requests that you return home.'

'Tell my mother I'll return when I'm ready. I'm a free man. She doesn't own me.'

'Your mother says that if you are reasonable and you return home tonight, nothing will happen to you or to the young woman you travel with. If you refuse, then I have specific orders.'

A rush of panic streaked through you. What would they do, kill you so Hvitserk couldn't marry you? Your answer came with Hvitserk's reply.

'I will not go with you. When I return, it will be with my wife at my side. You can assure my mother of that.'

'Very well, Hvitserk. If you don't come with us, I have no choice. FIRE!'

An arrow wicked up the mountain from the shadows and hit Hvitserk square in the shoulder with a dull thud. He staggered backwards with the force of it, then doubled over in pain. He fell to the rocky ground, steadying himself with his good arm.

Below, the horn blew again, and the shadowy men scattered into the trees.

You ran to Hvitserk. 'They shot you. They shot you!'

Hvitserk's breath came hard and heavy. 'I know.'

'Have they gone?' you demanded.

Hvitserk wasn't looking down the mountain. You could tell it was taking all his energy not to pass out. 'I don't know.'

You reached out and tried to steady him. If he toppled, being much larger than you, he'd take you down. 'Can you walk? I could get you to the horse. We could go back to Kattegat and get some help.'

'No,' Hvitserk shook his head and tried to stand. He leaned on you, wrapping his good arm around your shoulder. 'No, that's what she wants. We have to keep going.'

'Hvitserk, we are up here alone in the cold, and I can't do this on my own.'

'You won't be on your own.' Hvitserk grabbed the arrow and pulled it out with a hiss and a scream.

'No! You shouldn't have done that. You'll bleed more now.'

'I can't manage the horse and you with that stuck in me. Now, come on. Let's get back on the beast and keep going. With any luck, if I survive the night, we'll find a healer in the next town tomorrow.'


End file.
